Of Stories Untold
by The Smallest Writer
Summary: The universe is filled with stories. Some we know. But what about the rest? Would one little pebble in the cogs send our world askew? One little pebble with a will and a story all its own.. and a wish for another chance. Another try to matter. OC x Multiple, spanning through the series. Requests available.
1. Chapter One

Do we ever really wonder, ever think at all, just what absolute truth lies out there? With every new story, each aspect we consider, whichever one our mind stores away, wouldn't there be another, or maybe a hundred more angles to it from which we remain ignorant? Like an enormous library, an archive. The tomes lined back to back, stretching beyond sight and comprehension.

It would take more than one's short, human life span to reach _true_ understanding of even one of those tomes.

Because every story spins a plot, and every one of its many characters– a world all their own. To imagine we could somehow absorb these worlds, this knowledge? Preposterous. Yet the curious child within us demands this knowledge. They pull one tome apart from the others, small fingers tracing the withered, cracked leather. They blow the dust away, fascinated by the small particles dancing for a moment in their personal space- maybe cough at the density, if the story chosen is an old one.

But we are impatient, and a beginning must be given to our journey, always. It could be imperfect, not always exciting and fresh. Hell, it might not even be our own beginning.

Yet we still tell it. Because we are drawn to it, eager to let our minds be part of the story. And we always turn that first page.

 _Chapter one._

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The summer break has come to an end earlier than usual this year. It might have seemed so to most students, a normal feeling one might argue- crushing the spirit all the more heavily if this said student (and their friends,) had spent their vacation time so far away from home, and wound up never having the opportunity to kick back and relax like they were meant to be doing.

Then again, giving up one break in favor of saving a close friend's life sounded like a fair bargain. And the soul society was truly a beautiful place... or, well, it had its good spots from what she could remember.

Layla had offered a polite smile to the girl, scanning the last barcode of her purchase and helping the redhead pack up through the rest of that seemingly unimportant small talk. She'd have to commend her, Orihime didn't give obvious details so easily... and she'd had the imagination to exasperate anyone who didn't know what to dig for. It was nice though, knowing they were all back safely and with their mission accomplished to boot. The town surely could use its (rash, sloppy and hot-headed) soul reaper back.

It seemed that the number of hollows encroaching upon the human world had simply refused to sizzle down to a null one.

"Thank you- and have a nice day, Inoue-san." The bell chimed just as sweetly as the girl's reply to her, and with the silence returning, so did her less than cheery thoughts. They weren't about work at all, although with the line empty she did return to sweeping up the aisles of the small grocery store. Instead what took up her mind was the barely tangible twitch, a flicker of fire. Of energy... the energy of souls.

It was impossible though, wasn't it? It had to be. Resting her forehead for a moment against the dirty wooden handle of the broom, the woman's eyes slipped shut, clear gray irises hidden under their heavy lids. Impossible, and yet it was there, just _there_ , the persistent, oddly feeble tremble and _life_ of souls. Moving ever so slowly through her near surroundings.

 _'You would be unlikely to survive this, really it is pointless to even struggle now.'_

Just the same as that hollow ache in her chest reminded her so did those haunting words. And the tone that had gone along with them- so casual, so disinterested. As if what had happened back then was nothing more than some mundane task, like taking out the trash. Her eyebrows furrowed.

 _'Truthfully, you were such a disappointment...'_

That asshole. For a moment the wood under her fingers creaked- but just as soon as her fingers began to go numb with the pressure, she'd released it, one hand freed to run through her long, dark hair to ease the rage those memories brought back.

But she could almost still feel the icy metal against her back, and that showed in the shudder running down her spine even now. It was only interrupted by another chime of the bell, shifting the ravenette's attention back to reality.

Back to her current reality, at least. The one where she could just barely sense a disturbance in pressure just a few blocks away.

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One final twinkle from the doorbell bid her a goodbye for the day when Layla stepped out from the shop, and into the cool evening air. By the time that her shift had finished, the ripple of energy that caught her attention earlier had already vanished- but just to be sure, her pale eyes drew upward to the skies before starting on her way. The purples and reds of sunset were dim now and fading darker quickly, making room for the darkness of night to take over. She should probably try to start leaving work earlier.

Straining to read the faint, fuzzy pressures of spirit energy around her didn't yield much result either. Frustrated, and with a scoff to show it the raven headed on home instead. If that oddity was even there anymore, it was either much weaker or farther away... that was fine, then. It was no immediate threat and meant she wouldn't have to take any action about it unless—

... Not that she really _could_ take any action. Damn it.

It wouldn't be farfetched to assume that even with the years that have passed since her unwilling leave, the yearning to prove herself hasn't faded. At points she wasn't even so sure it had been the urge to do good- it was just an urge to _do_ , to do _anything._ To be able to act when danger presented itself instead of having to run and hide like some helpless, powerless soul.

Needless to say that she wasn't too happy with the knowledge that's precisely what she was now.

Streets passed by slowly while the woman had submitted to those musings, and passersby seemed to dwindle just the same as daylight continued to fade. Children would be put to bed soon. So will their older siblings, and their parents soon after. The citizens of the 'peaceful' town of Karakura would know nothing of the beats that roamed about at night, or of the nameless soldiers fighting for their safety. Not being one of those lucky, oblivious individuals had been a blessing to Layla though, the way she saw it. Because if one knew of monsters, fought them, seen the evil and corruption of those souls- and one day, just like that, had it vanish altogether? She would have probably gone mental within the first week just due to the constant paranoia. The mere idea of such a fate had her shuddering.

Her shadow reappeared once the streets were again illuminated by their mesmerizing white glow, an electrical buzzing sounding in the background as one of the bulbs ahead flickered to life, but she was practically the only one by this point whom they've kept company to. The streets have grown void, with only the stray car and the sound of her footsteps breaking their quiet. The bright lights never seemed this cold either, and after readjusting the strap of her purse a tad closer, Layla picked her pace up some more- the sooner she'd reach home and be able to warm up again, the better. Another shudder caused her shoulders to rise though... followed by a shrill screech that had the ravenette halting in her tracks like a deer in the headlights.

 _Why now— A hollow?_

"Orihime!"

"Where did...?" That was Ichigo's voice, wasn't it? It was a relief to know the reaper was close enough to handle the situation (a bitter relief at least), but once her pale eyes ran down the length of the street to find the source and encountered nothing, she was forced to look up.

It wasn't a hollow at all. It was hell.

The gates towered overhead, open like a hungry beast ready to devour its poor prey. She wasn't ready to die though- it couldn't have been there for her!- And yet the mere shock of witnessing it was enough to have her stumbling backward, a now familiar tremble going through her body. She had heard stories about these doors, but never did she think she'd witness them first hand, from such a close proximity! The relief which washed through her was enormous when those terrifying doors began to shut again, fading... disappearing completely, without taking their victim with them. Instead, Ichigo remained standing just overhead, his bright hair the only thing really distinguishable from this distance.

Did the doors of hell appear to take him, then? But that couldn't be, could it? Hell couldn't claim a living soul. Not only that, but now that the initial shock was fading (and with some sense returning to her, with it) Layla's eyebrows began descending into a frown with a new realization. The feeling of that spiritual pressure was all wrong. Yes, she had nothing to compare it to and yet it just didn't seem to fit. It wasn't the feeling of anything relating to the soul society. It felt almost deformed, like the odd one that caught her attention that afternoon.

Just what the hell was going on?

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 **A/N:** **Alright, so this is it for now. It's a little short, mostly me brushing some rust off. Hopefully it's enough to gather up some interest though, and I'll be out with another chapter in the next couple of days.**

 **Also as the name suggests... this isn't just my story. I'm fully willing to make inserts of other characters into this, or add in one-shots upon request. So go ahead and ask for it, if my style is to your liking. I'll promise to be nice... unless you ask for angst, ahah.**


	2. Introduction

**A:N/ Last chapter has been updated and made longer, I hope there won't be too much confusion with this.**

 **This chapter will be focused on** **actually introducing Layla, and clearing up a bit more about her past and her present now, so just a heads up on that.**

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Well, the good news were that it wasn't hell. The fading reiatsu disturbance that lingered in the air around them was too strange- and plenty weaker than she would have imagined it would be- and while her knees still felt shaky after the scare (even if it turned out to be for nothing after all,) Layla wasted no time in rushing to shorten the distance between herself and the shaken group of teens still remaining at the scene. There had been no hollow, and no actual battle.. at least, she doubted that anyone could miss the sporadic bursts of spirit energy of one Ichigo Kurosaki when he was immersed in a fight even if their view _had_ been blocked by those doors. No matter how weak her own sensory abilities have been, surely missing that whole mess would lend her in the 'special' soul leagues? Just what the hell was going on here, then?

There was only one way to find out and she was set on doing so, pausing just beneath the window where the group were peering out, all except for one airborne redhead. Her question didn't give them much time to recuperate from their own shock, though. "Hey— Excuse me, what happened here, exactly ? What was that thing?"

Interrupted, a few expected 'What's and 'Where's breached the silence above and when she finally gained the group's attention the faces familiar to her showed an odd mixture of confused recognition. Yet the quiet still lingered, frustratingly enough. True, she wasn't supposed to have seen any of that, but the situation seemed too serious to linger around aimlessly and avoid her now that she was clearly here, and clearly aware of something being wrong.

"Ishida, Sado-" Thinking to help spur them on a little, Layla's words paused briefly. "Ichigo? Am I going to get an explanation, or not?"

The reaper tensed some when being called out, but by the time whatever form of silent consensus had been reached between them and the addressed trio made it down the stairs, she was already waiting. Another shinigami was trailing them, too, earning a long stare before her attention shifted-

Just as the teenagers broke into a mad dash away.

A muscle in her cheek had twitched while watching this retreat. It seemed like she wouldn't be getting an answer after all.

* * *

 _I can't believe they just up and ran like that._

Exasperation fueled her thoughts throughout the next morning, and up until she'd had to make it out of her apartment, locking the door to a satisfying click and making it down the street for her upcoming evening shift at work. Cars rushed by in a hum of wheels and engines, and with school finishing around this point in time the streets were busy as with every afternoon. There was nothing to compare with the still, icy air of the previous night, or the startling events that went on in its duration.

Well, alright, she _was_ feeling a bit hot in the head watching those kids run off.

Layla replayed the events of that evening before her eyes after, of course. The doors. The location. The people involved. Anything and everything that possibly came to mind but most of all the feeling— Whatever had been responsible for that reiatsu could not have been a shinigami.

It wasn't a hollow, either.

Lost within her mind, the path toward her destination was made out of habit, the woman's light footsteps carrying out this route without need for guidance. She had done this plenty of times before. Working, just like any sensible adult should, earning a living. Renting an apartment too- which had been a little strange at first, to be fair. Maybe it was the entire 'modern experience' that has been weird, though. She hasn't had to do it in a few good years, after all.

The thoughts shifted and grew lost when that same dead-end had been reached, but Layla still just raised her hand, running long, slender fingers through the end of the ponytail that rested over one of her shoulders. Her hair was much more manageable this way, nice and sorted instead of being tossed behind her in its glory of thick, black waves. Which were a hell to comb through again after, mind you. Now, the dark digits parted it easily and rose to do it again, twisting a chosen strand absentmindedly just as she'd turned a corner.

Just a few blocks more. She paused, waiting only a minute before the light changed to green to let her across one of the familiar intersections, already searching with her eyes for the sign just ahead, guiding into the street where not even twelve hours ago she had found herself fearing for her life.

 _Not that there had been any_ real _danger, but... I digress._

Her track toward the supermarket still hasn't been continued, now that she was resumed a grasp at her surroundings again. And actually, now that she _had_ taken notice, with a bit of focus there was a distinguishable prickle of spirit energy coming from the very street her eyes lingered at.

 _Ichigo Kurosaki._

Good thing the boy hadn't been born a soul reaper- he was a disgrace to one in terms of energy suppression. Especially when he was riled up, the normally fuzzy grasp of pressures she could feel turning so obvious and sharp she could follow it blindfolded, (unlike usual which was almost like trying to grab a handful of jello- one moment you had it, but any tries to close down ended in a gooey mess). Right then it was practically grating on her awareness however, throbbing and wavering, as if he was trying to keep calm to no avail.

And- And getting closer, now that she thought about it. Blinking, the general gaze her eyes had held on the street focused on the quickly approaching stampede of children, all four of which nearly barreled into her if not for the hasty step backwards she took at the last moment. But even with her wide eyes following them, and with the half audible apology shouted after at her, they didn't stop.

Maybe it was some weird exercise regime they've gotten on, and not just some attempt to avoid further questions. That sounded unlikely, however a glance down at her phone showed there wasn't time now to follow them and find out for certain. Letting her eyes instead shift back toward the direction they group came from and with the home at question just barely visible, Layla reluctantly continued onward.

There have been further, similar spikes of the substitute soul reaper's reiatsu throughout that evening.

* * *

Her apartment had been as stuffy as ever when she had gotten back that night. Shift done, and with the disturbances seemingly calming (in fact, she couldn't feel them at all a little after eight or so,) Layla flicked the lights on and left her purse on the hanger by the door before making her way toward the kitchen for a well deserved drink.

Unlike sake, red wine was something she had gotten to rather like in the world of the living.

The subtle sting of alcohol down her throat lingered right at the first sip, earning a relieving sigh, and with the glass cupped gently in her palm the ravenette took herself a seat at the dining table. It was quiet, aside from the mundane buzz of her refrigerator and the ticking of a clock all the way over in the living room. More than that, though- it was still. Not a rustle or a twitch of energy around her that she could feel, definitely none from the excitable group of teenagers which have only recently returned to Karakura town.

It was _still weird._

Another sip of the liquor dulled her mind, just a smidgen, just enough to let her thoughts roam again. Layla's attention wandered until her eyes came to stare out of the window and to the dark skies outside, not much else distinguishable through the glass with the lit lamp overhead, aside from her reflection staring right back at her.

Her hair had been let loose somewhere throughout the day, the wavy strands of it falling past her slim shoulders, and her pale gray eyes seemed rather soulless when plastered on the dull reflection. It wasn't a look she had enjoyed, though... the last years in the human world seemed to have aged her, the routine and mental strain chiseling onto her face an exhaustion that was hard to accept.

She looked _old_ , Layla realized with a distasteful scoff, turning away again to find some solace in the wine between her fingers.

But the hands holding her glass were still young, the skin at their backs smooth- unlike the slightly calloused palms which wore down due to her own exercise plan. And despite the many areas where she didn't measure up, her body functioned perfectly. Her face bore no wrinkles just yet, no real sign of age other than her tired expression, the darker mediterranean tone only barely changed after her many hours training in the sunlight.

She just _felt_ old. Which was just as bad.

There was a sudden surge of spirit pressure that had dragged her thoughts from their rut, and one more time the raven shifted her eyes through the window, more by habit than actual interest. No, actually- there had been some emotion there. Envy. Jealousy toward a simple human boy who had been lucky enough to gain the powers of a soul reaper, who was then given a chance to refine those powers and with this find solace in the knowledge that he was _safe._

Granted, he did need to fight a battle here and there. But the hollows around this town really didn't seem to pose much of a threat, if only in the way they incessantly crawled, one after the other out of that hole they'd called home. But even then, Ichigo Kurosaki would slay them without much effort. He would save souls. He would _matter._ In essence, he would be much more influential in the greater scheme than she could ever be, now that her own strength had been taken away from her.

A memory of that incident had resurfaced again and that same chill brought a shudder down her spine, making Layla's grasp on the glass tighten before she took another gulp to finish the drink off, calming down. It burned its way down her throat, but the harsh expression taking up her features now was not thanks to that.

 _'You really think you deserve me? That I'll bow to_ you _?'_

The smug look on his face at those moments wasn't something she would ever forget. Much like his condescending words, the flourish with which that bastard had moved, or the iciness of his blade when it ran her through.

She's never heard him since, although more often than not she didn't mind that at all. He was a pompous man, and infuriating too.. it was unbelievable to think he had been part of her own soul, honestly. Impossible even.

But while the silence in her mind might have been appreciated this helplessness was not, only strengthening the resolve built up in those moments of fury, when her crumbling soul wound up kept together by miracle and stubbornness alone, when her inner world shattered to leave her struggling to even breathe and her fingers grew numb around that goddamned blade.

The next time she would see him, she was going to kick his ass.

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 **A:N/** **Alright so this is it, hope you've enjoyed your read! Also, comments and critique is especially appreciated, I would love to know if there's anything I could improve on with this. And just generally know what you think, so have at it?**


	3. Pivot

**A/N:** **Alright, so, third chapter up and running. I'm aiming for a bit of plot somewhere in here, not to worry— But as things progress I might need some encouragement so if you've got any ideas for 'filler' chapters, bring them on!**

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The next time she would see him, she was going to kick his ass.

The only problem was that when she _did_ hear from him next, that oath had been the last thing on her mind.

A week had passed since the deformed reiatsu seemed to have vanished and yet even with no further sight of that gate or any of its sources, some things were definitely still off.

First of all, Ichigo Kurosaki and his friends have been much jumpier ever since their attempt to trample her in the middle of the street. They've also been avoiding her, from what she could tell- then again, maybe their reluctance to spill their life story to a stranger she could be more lenient toward.

The second issue was subjectively much more pressing, considering it had to do with her own wellbeing rather than the antics of the local child reaper and his buddies.

Denial aside, a part of Layla had known her spiritual pressure was rather unimpressive (practically nonexistent, really,) on the day she'd woken up in the human world, her power and zanpakuto vanished in favor of an overly cheery shop keeper shoving a rubber suit in her face. But after her spout of protesting it, and a few good minutes of being freaked out by the thing as she stared into its dead, soulless eyes, that was done with. And she left. And she assimilated with the humans, finding herself a home and whatever work she could at that time.

This reality began to gradually change after the night when a particular fifteen year old boy gained himself some shiny new shinigami powers.

She could feel it every time he came into the shop. Slowly but surely, the flare of battles reached her ears too, so to speak. And of course the further her soul has been influenced by these raging pressures the better she could see again. The better she could _feel._ With all those realizations came the frustrating thoughts that it just wasn't enough, however- what good was seeing evil when you had no chance of doing anything about it? There was another little problem with just seeing, too.

It turned out only a few days more were necessary until her recovering strength was enough to attract unwanted attention.

* * *

 _Run._

The street was mostly silent at this point in the day. No children were out roaming the streets- not very many adults were, either. The winter was looming nearer with a bite to it, and although there were still a good couple of months of autumn to survive through, this year already promised for a rough one. Temperatures were dropping weekly, and icy winds came with them, creeping into coat sleeves and scratching their way into the collar of anyone who had forgotten their scarves. Actually she was one of those very people just then, with the day's prognosis being rather fair at the time she was leaving for work.

All such thoughts were the last of her worries at that moment, however. Because with her heart thundering in her ears, her breath coming in measured but scratchy gasps and the slapping of her shoes against the cement pavement, current weather didn't even cross her mind at all. At this pace her entire body felt like it was on fire, her skin rejecting the iciness of the wind and her cramping muscles eliminating any discomfort it would have otherwise caused.

 _Faster-_

And then there was the screaming. Not hers of course- truthfully, there was no spare air left at her disposal to do that.

But the hollow hot on her heels sure seemed like it had plenty to waste with the ear piercing wail that split the silence not a moment after.

 _Gain some distance. Reevaluate._

 _Find its weak spot. Live._

It would have to be one hell of a weak spot for her to take advantage of though, with no weapon nor any actual powers at her disposal. Theoretically, she could try and use brute force.. would it be enough? Would she even manage to land a hit? But with the way to her home quickly shortening and the larger streets turning more narrow, she was running out of options.

And she was running out of breath, too.

Hoping against every bit of logic in her it was at the next turn that Layla had skidded to a halt, using the momentum to let her body pirouette into facing the thing. In its hunger and rush to get at her, it did not expect such a sharp turn and with the faulty move found itself colliding into a lamp post just at the corner of the street. Needless to say the flimsy piece of metal stood no chance, the electric bulb crackling as its light died out.

The relative silence which lasted for the next few seconds was spoiled only with her ragged breathing (her own heart thumping in her ears), and the low rumble that rolled at the back of the hollow's throat. She could see it clearer than ever, the slanted yellow eyes that hid in the darkness of that mask, the teeth that seemed almost human, perfect contradiction to its grotesque form and the famished stare it watched her with. The seconds passed, one by one, and the tension built further in the air as both beings watched, trying to predict the next move... Or maybe savoring the last moment of a hunt before they finally had their meal.

Either way, there was no chance for her to flee any more. The hollow was too close, she wouldn't be able to gain enough distance to make it. She couldn't stay and wait for the local shinigami to arrive, either.

 _But she wanted to live._

 _She_ had _to live._

A dark, thick arm swiped at her not a moment later and as it swiped overhead Layla could feel her knees give a displeased throb where she dropped on them much too quickly. The passing attack had been too close to take her time though- so close in fact that she could have sworn the energy packed behind that strike left a mark on her after all, a crackle of spiritual pressure remaining on her skin even when the woman skittered out from under the again retreating limb- back to her feet to gain some distance.

But it didn't attack another time. The air around them seemed to ripple slightly, almost throbbing with the pressure that was building but the very nature of that pressure made her pause, too- it didn't _feel_ right, didn't feel like the sort of energy a hollow would give out.

 _'You've really let yourself go, haven't you?'_

Having the tension snapped so suddenly had nearly sent her off her feet again in shock. Recovering from that jolt, however, Layla's eyes darted off to the right, but with no one in sight they shifted left. No one again. Confusion only had a brief window to linger before those gray eyes were forced to shift right back to the monster anyway, as with those few moments of wonder passing it seemed the creature was ready to attack again, a screech rippling through its throat as it stood on stumpy back legs, those scarily massive arms tossed right at her instead.

This attack seemed much slower than the previous. Her legs straightened to jog a few steps back, avoiding the initial swipe— until the shock wave created by the impact of hollow to pavement made the latter rumble, and the small woman trying to stand on it lose some balance. Pressing a hand to the now chipped concrete, Layla turned wide eyes right back up just in time to catch it barreling forward again.

Right. At. Her.

 _'For the love of god, would you_ _**move**?_ '

The urging tone hissing against the confines of her skull was enough. It zipped through like flames atop the fuse of a rocket, sparking up the energy in her needed for action. And she did- although in retrospect, maybe not in the brightest of ways, not when facing with something this hungry and huge, which happened to also be lumbering ahead right at you.

Yet the moment when her shoes dug into the pavement, and her body tilted to allow her to draw back a fist, there was no doubt within her at all.

There was a bone chilling crack splintering through the midnight air when the collision came.

* * *

Which was basically how she had wound up here, sitting at the edge of the bath of her small apartment, teeth sinking into the skin of her lower lip and a hiss just past those when the sting registered. In retrospect, maybe that particular move hadn't been the brightest. Like, at all. Her busted knuckles were enough of an indicator of that, the split skin already caked with blood and congealing, yellowish plasma by the time that she had returned home.

And damn it, cleaning it all off sure _stung._ Passing the damp cloth over the wounds again made her lip curl up, but even the lingering, buzzing sting under her skin wasn't the worst of it. That thing managed to escape. Sure, her hit earned it a nice thick crack right through its mask- and yet it ran, squealing in pain, and disappearing much too quickly for her to follow.

Not that she would, considering how little she's been able to do to fend it off.

 _'That's because someone has been slacking—'_

"Shut up." Oh. Right. There was also _that_ reason why. Because whatever dark hole he had dug out for himself to hide in turned uncovered in that fight, whatever tricks he'd relied on to keep her away have just expired. Because now, now that _her_ soul was buzzing into life again she was going to come after him, just as promised. Beat him down and into submission just as it was meant to be, return whatever favor he borrowed all those years ago.

 _'Heh,'_ His voice was unbelievably annoying too, even after having been alone in her head for so long. Overly smooth and so pleasant, she could just imagine his pretty smile while the jerk was cackling at her. _'I'd like to see you fight me with that hand.'_ Sadly it was only the cold tile floor that got the brunt of her glare then.

But he did have a point.

Curling the injured fist at her side and letting it loosen when the ache settled in, Layla turned her attention to bandaging the poor limb up as best as she could. The soreness wasn't as bad as the rust built up in her bones from such long years of inactivity anyway. The occasional run or workout did nothing for swordplay, and it was lacking in that particular skill which worried her in these plans in the first place. She would need to brush up on it, but even that couldn't take longer than two days, right? Three at most. Three days, at the end of which she would take the reigns back and be able to—

The roll of bandages halted briefly from where it was being pulled tighter around her fingers. She would take control over her powers, and... what _then?_ Stay here, join Kurosaki in his duties protecting this town? Or would she be able to return to her previous post? The world grew blurry for a moment when she shook that thought off.

Whatever the consequences, she'd had to win first.

"Because you're mine."

Which also meant she needed to see Urahara again.

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 **A/N:** **Phew. So the plot is beginning to roll in, and with the next chapter we will return to the 'main plotline' while Layla also hopefully gains herself a proper training partner? Either way, familiar things (and unfamiliar things,) will be afoot and as always critique and comments are welcome.**


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